Note:This story is based upon the movie Wild Orchid starring Mickey Rourke. I've always liked how that movie has a kind of fantasy structure, and I wanted to see if I could use it to write something of my own.
I hope you enjoy it.
Dean had never been to Rio de Janeiro. In fact, as a young lawyer and an unmated omega, he had never been anywhere farther away from his home state of Texas, than Kansas. He felt excitement burn within him, and couldn't understand how his boss, John Desmond Morgan, seemed to be so unmoved by their surroundings.
They pulled up in front of a large white house that overlooked the beach, and dark skinned housemaids came out of the house to carry in their luggage. The inside of the house took Dean's breath away. He had come from a relatively wealthy family himself, and they owned a cattle ranch just outside of Dallas, but this place was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The entire front entrance had emerald coloured tiles that glittered in the afternoon sun, and fans languidly spun overhead to provide cool air. All of the furniture was rattan, and huge doors that looked like windows opened onto a balcony that gave a view of the city as it spilled down onto the coastline. A wide staircase led up to the upstairs landing where at least ten rooms ran along the passage way.
A dark skinned man wearing a brightly coloured shirt and white cotton pants walked down the stairs with his arms held open wide. J.D. grinned at him and they met at the foot of the stairs as they fondly clapped each other on the back.
"Dean," J.D. said as he turned around.
Dean immediately walked forward and smiled at the other man.
"This is Janek," J.D. grinned and clamped a hand onto Janek's shoulder. "He's my main man. If you need anything at all. You go to him."
Dean nodded and shook Janek's hand, and felt a slight tingling sensation go up his arm at the way the man looked at him. The look faded as quickly as it had begun, however, and Dean was sure that it had been his imagination.
They went upstairs to one of the rooms on the end, and J.D. opened it up to reveal a very spacious office with a glorious view of the sea. Dean couldn't help marvel at the way the aquamarine coloured water moved beneath the deep blue of the sky.
"Where is everyone, Janek?"
"They're starting tomorrow."
J.D.'s expression grew dark, "What? I said that they needed to be here twenty four/ seven."
"I'm sorry, boss," Janek shrugged.
J.D. rolled his eyes, "Well then, we'll just have to start bright and early won't we."
Janek smiled slowly and nodded.
J.D. turned towards Dean, "Let's go have a look at the building site, shall we?"
The building site was land on the beachfront which J.D. told Dean had been left to become wild. He explained how they would be using the land to build a new luxury hotel where they'd have all of the facilities that anyone staying in Brazil would want.
Dean surveyed the builders and overturned earth around them, but his eyes were inexorably attracted by an abandoned building that had become brown and decayed in the salt air and under the tropical sun.
"What's that place?" he asked J.D.
"Oh that's the old hotel. It's pivotal for our plans with the Chinese, who want to use it as a marina."
"But it's not part of our deeds," Dean frowned.
"Oh don't worry your pretty little head about it. It's not like it's going anywhere. It's been on the market for a little over a decade."
Dean wanted to protest, such a move was an unwarranted risk, but before he could say anything, J.D. had walked away from him.
"Where's Clarke?" he shouted to the foreman.
"Ele não está aqui. Elefoi paraum casamento," the foreman replied.
"What did he say?" J.D. asked Dean.
"He's not here," Dean replied. "He went away to a wedding."
"What the fuck?" J.D. fumed. "He's supposed to be here! Where's the bloody wedding?"
"Onde estáo casamento?" Dean asked the foreman.
"Madeira."
"Oh for the love-" J.D. suddenly snapped his fingers. "Janek, take me to the airport! I'm going to go and fetch that son of a bitch and bring him back on a leash if I have to!"
"Wait!" Dean said as J.D. climbed into the car and they were about to pull off.
"Oh sorry, Dean. You'll have to take my appointment tonight with a gentleman called Sam Kane. I'll make sure you have something to wear! Janek will double back once he's taken me to the airport." J.D. instructed before he shut the car door and they drove away.
Dean stood there feeling rather forlorn for a moment, before he looked up at the old hotel, and found himself walking towards it. He noticed a little boy with raven coloured hair and deep blue eyes standing behind the makeshift fence of the building site, and he smiled at him, before he carried on walking towards the hotel.
Dean could not place what drew him inside. At face value the place was bare and rain damaged, with nature trying to the claim the structure through the vines that grew over some of the walls, and the grass that broke through the cracked concrete floor. It seemed to whisper to him somehow, of lives lived long ago, of secrets kept and found. It was quiet except for the sounds of a few insects and water flowing into some of the rooms. He walked up the stairs that had crumbled in some places, and came face to face with a tarnished mirror. He imagined people walking up these stairs, back to their room, and seeing their own ball gown, fur wrapped, and tuxedo clad reflections.
Two people appeared in the mirror behind him, causing Dean to gasp softly. He turned around and hid behind the rise of the floor next to the stairs, as he watched a man wearing only worn cotton pants push a woman in a thin white dress that outlined her breasts and pubic hair, against the hoary wall. The man pulled down his pants so that his round, firm behind was exposed, and he shucked the woman's dress up as he lifted her and slid her onto his cock. She let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion, and gripped his broad shoulders. He began to brutally thrust into her, and her cries echoed through the barren structure of the hotel.
Water gushed from a groove in the greyish wall, and the man guided he and the woman underneath it, so that she let out a choked breath as the water hit her and he continued his onslaught upon her body. A strap on her dress fell down and exposed one of her high, round breasts, and her burnished nipple. The water made her dress cling to her body, which was a dark outline against the thin, white fabric. She threw her head back, and water dripped from the tendrils of her curly hair. She let out a pleasured moan as her partner took her exposed nipple into his mouth.
Dean was frozen, absolutely captivated by the viscerally sexual display before him. He felt disturbed as well, however. His many years of moral and inhibited behaviour as a disciplined young omega rebelling at the deeper desire he felt to continue secretly watching the coupling before him. He had to turn away, though, and he ran down the stairs and the corridor beyond, which seemed to go on for an infinite amount of metres, before he found himself outside once again, and saw Janek pulling up the long dirt road beyond.
When Dean arrived back at the house, he felt unsettled. A silver-grey suit lay on his bed with a matching waistcoat and tie, and he quickly put them on with a crisp white shirt after he took a short shower. His close cropped golden hair glistened with water droplets, but he didn't have time to dry it before he went downstairs.
"There is a car waiting outside for you, senhor," said one of the housemaids, as she opened the large front door for him. "It was sent by a Senhor Kane."
"Thank you," Dean smiled before he descended the front steps and climbed into the car.
Rio looked different at night, with its bright lights and flowing traffic like golden lines along the roads. The sea was a dark body against the star sprinkled sky, and Christ the Redeemer glowing like a holy beacon above the city.
The limousine stopped in front of a crowded street, and the chauffer opened the door for Jensen, before leading him down it. The young boy from earlier appeared out of the crowded stalls of the street, and Dean frowned at such a coincidence. The boy was holding a clucking chicken, which he gave to a woman wearing a colourful head wrap, who sat in a circle of flickering candles.
"This way, senhor," said the chauffer, rousing Dean from his observation.
"Oh yes," Dean nodded, and followed him.
At the end of the street was a large white walled building that had slightly cracked steps leading up to the entrance. A woman dressed in a dark purple caftan and a head wrap like the street woman, but of a far more intricate design, smiled at Dean, showing startlingly even white teeth.
"Bem-vindo. Welcome," she said, as she stroked the gaudy wings of a large parrot that was perched on a balustrade.
The parrot let out a squawk and the hostess laughed, "He is greeting you, too."
Dean laughed as well, and said, "I don't know. It sounded like he was warning me. *Não se preocupe papagaio. Eu não tenho nada a temer aqui."
The woman laughed again as she guided him to a table near the far wall. Dean felt his mouth go dry as he saw the man who was sitting there, clad in a designer black suit and matching waistcoat, with an eggshell coloured shirt that was unbuttoned to show the tanned column of his long throat, and the smooth expanse of the top of his chest. His chestnut hair was long, touching the collar of his shirt, and it shimmered with lowlights of brown and blonde. The hostess gestured towards the man and smiled at Dean before she returned to her post at the restaurant's entrance.
"Hello," Dean greeted. "I'm Dean Winchester."
"I should hope so," the man smiled, showing deep dimples. "I'm Samuel Kane, but I'm sure you already know that."
Dean flushed slightly as he sat down, which only intensified when he smelt Sam's scent and realised that he was an alpha. He felt his opening clench slightly at the rich, mountainlike scent, and Dean gave him a knowing smile.
"I've taken the liberty of ordering for you," Sam said. "My secretary phoned your mother and found out what you like. Medium steak, mashed potatoes and carrots, with lemon meringue for dessert."
Dean looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then he had to fix his gaze somewhere else before he was consumed by Sam's multi-coloured gaze, which seemed to shift the longer he met it. He took in the overly muscled body guards who stood against the wall and quietly assessed the room around them.
"Do you go everywhere with them?" Dean asked, not wanting to feel so exposed.
Sam smirked, "Yes. I was kidnapped once."
"Over money or politics?"
Sam let out a soft, rich laugh that made Dean's skin come alive with an unfamiliar sensation, "Money, of course. I don't care for politics."
Dean looked at the richly furnished restaurant, filled with all of his wealthy occupants, "I'm glad it hasn't scared you into being more inconspicuous."
Sam raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to apologise for being rich?"
Dean shrugged, taking a sip of the champagne in its fine crystal flute in order to occupy his hands.
Sam smiled again, "Then I will. I'm sorry."
Dean couldn't help but return the smile.
"Tell me," Sam said, leaning forward slightly, causing his shirt to expose the beginning of his beautifully defined pectoral muscles. "Do you ever lose control, Dean?"
He frowned, feeling as if he may get whiplash from the frequent shifts in conversation, "I don't understand why you're asking me that."
"That woman over there," Sam pointed his chin to someone behind Dean's back.
He turned around and saw an old woman with platinum blonde hair that shone like candyfloss in the low light of the restaurant, and her two effeminate male companions.
"What do you think would make her lose control?"
Dean shrugged and then replied, "Her wig. If she lost her wig it would make her lose control."
"And how about that couple over there? Do you think it's her money or his?"
Dean followed Sam's gaze to a young couple sitting in the far corner. The woman had dark brown hair that fell down her back in wavy tendrils, and her lips were painted with a soft corral colour. Her fine boned hands glittered with expensive jewellery, and her dress was cut to accentuate the slim lines of her body. Her partner sat across from her, and his hair was almost white blonde and combed back over his ears. He was handsome in a sort of carefully put together way, and his suit clung to his athletic physique.
"It's her money," Dean replied.
"Why?" Sam prompted.
Dean returned his gaze to his host, "Even though he's so well groomed, it looks like he's wearing borrowed clothes. Like he had to learn how to wear them, and how to move in them."
Sam's eyes shimmered slightly, "Where do you think they met?"
"In Aspen. She was on a skiing holiday with her friends, and he seduced her."
"The gigolo skiing instructor?"
"No," Dean shook his head. "He was training for the Olympics before he broke his leg."
"Where did they go on their honeymoon?"
An image of the decayed grandeur of the beachfront hotel flashed through Dean's mind's eye, "An old grand hotel. They didn't know it had fallen into ruin, however. Her mother and father had gone there on their honeymoon, and she felt that it was tradition."
"So she has old money then?"
"Yes," Dean replied softly.
"How did she feel about the hotel being a ruin?" Sam asked, his hands coming up to rest, palms flat, on the snow white table cloth.
Dean's blush returned and he cleared his throat, "She—she felt… sinful. Decadent. Like she could be alive there, and not have to worry about what everyone, including her new husband, expected of her."
Sam's smile became almost predatory, "What happened on the honeymoon night?"
Dean licked his lips, so that they glowed like ripe strawberries in the muted light, "N-nothing. He refused to stay there."
Sam's smile faded and he got up from the table, "Something happened on that night, Dean. I want to know what it was. If you don't tell me, I'll go over there and ask them."
Dean grabbed Sam's wrist, feeling the hot skin and fine hair beneath his fingertips and palm, "Please don't. Please."
Sam sat down again, but in the chair next to Dean, so that their knees lightly brushed, "Tell me, Dean."
Dean felt too embarrassed to continue while meeting that steady, assessing gaze, "He—he went outside and made a call to get a flight back home."
"How did she feel about that?"
"Why are you—interrogating me like this?"
Sam made to get up again, but Dean stopped him once more, "She felt furious, so she took a walk out in the gardens that had become like a jungle, and she saw a man's reflection in the water of the moss covered fountain. She realised that he was standing behind her, and—and then she let him take her right there, on the ground. Anyone could have heard them. They weren't that far away from the lobby and her husband."
Sam's gaze travelled over Dean's body and then his smiled returned, "Let me show you something."
Dean found himself following Sam without question as they walked to the back of the restaurant, and out into a courtyard that had a long bar that ran along the wall on the side, and people sitting at tables arranged to form a sort of dance floor. Everyone wore masks, and Sam handed a simple white one to Dean before he put a black one of the same design on. The low, frantic sounds of a drum began to play, and a woman in a crimson crossover top and flowing skirt began to sing. Flutes joined the drums and seemed to curl around her voice as both she and the beat grew faster and louder. Other women clad in outfits similar to hers and varying in vibrant colours, and men wearing loose pants, appeared from the sides of the dance floor, and they all began to move sinuously and rhythmically. The audience rose like a wave and flowed onto the dance floor to form a writhing line of bodies, and the dancers bled into the opening between them.
A man from the audience, wearing a black mask like the top of a fox's face, broke away from the line and began to dance with the singer. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, writhing and circling along to the wild music, as if they were in a mating dance. Dean's heartbeat sped up as the crowd swelled and contracted around him, and he looked around to realise that Sam was gone. He felt hands close around his shoulders and he desperately pushed them off as he broke through the twisting bodies. He ran off into the cool air of the night, and caught a taxi that took him home, away from the intoxicatingly terrifying display he had just witnessed.
*Don't worry parrot. I have nothing to fear here.
Dean's dreams were confused that night, and he woke up the next morning feeling exhausted. He observed almost purple shadows under his eyes, which made them look huge and forlorn. The warm water of the enormous shower calmed him somewhat before he turned it off and secured a towel around his slim waist.
His heart leapt as he saw Sam, wearing a sapphire coloured shirt, which was rolled up to expose the olive toned skin of his arms, and black chinos, sitting in the chair near the door that opened out onto the balcony.
"Were—were you watching me shower?" Dean demanded, suddenly very aware of his state of near nakedness.
Sam shrugged, "Maybe. You have lovely skin. So pale and smooth, and sprinkled with freckles and beauty spots."
Dean tried not to flush, a habit he was determined not to adopt when around Sam, "Why are you here?"
The corners of Sam's sensuous mouth turned downed, "I've never had anyone run away from me before. I don't care for it very much."
Dean bit his lip, "I've never had someone try and molest me on the first night I met them."
Sam's brow creased, "What are you talking about?"
"Nevermind," Dean huffed, looking out the window at the roiling body of the sea.
"Well whatever you're accusing me of, I can assure you I'm not guilty of it. Molesting people isn't my style," he replied as he rose from his chair.
Dean suddenly realised that Sam was holding a bouquet of beautiful bright pink and unblemished white orchids, "Here. A peace offering."
He thought about not taking them, but they were far too gorgeous and fragrant to resist, and he murmured, "Thank you."
Sam seemed pleased, and his gaze travelled over Dean's damp body once more, "I want to show you the city. As a way to make up for your discomfort last night."
Dean laid the flowers down on his bed, "I can't. I have too much work to do today."
Sam paused where he stood by the door of the bedroom, "I'll pick you up later then. At four."
Dean wanted to protest, but Sam was gone before he could exhale. He sighed and let his towel drop to the floor as he got dressed and then went out onto the balcony.
As planned, Sam picked him up at four o' clock, but this time there was no limousine, but rather a rumbling Harley Davidson between Sam's long legs. He had a leather jacket over his sapphire blue shirt and he wore a black full faced helmet. Dean felt nervous as he took the spare helmet that Sam held out to him.
"Have you ever been on a motorcycle?" Sam asked, as Dean climbed on behind him.
"No," Dean shook his head. "My parents never let me do anything like that when I was younger."
"Well, you'd better hold on tight," he instructed, as he made Dean hug him tightly about the waist, and move forward until Dean's chest and groin fit tightly to Sam's back and behind. "That's better."
Dean was extremely relieved that Sam couldn't see that he made him blush for the second time that day, as the bike's engine rumbled loudly and they pulled away. It was exhilarating to weave between the city traffic until the crowded metropolis opened out onto the countryside, and they rode down a winding coastal rode. The sea roared next to them, lapping against the beach and rolling beneath the lowering sun.
Dean gasped as he realised that Sam had taken him to the derelict hotel. The building site had been abandoned for the day, and as the bike's engine was abruptly silenced, all Dean could hear was his own slightly accelerated breathing and the crash of the sea beyond. He pulled his helmet off as he climbed from the motorcycle and turned to Sam, who had also removed his helmet, but was still sitting on the bike.
"Why did you bring me here? How did you know about this place?" he demanded softly.
Sam climbed off the bike and put his helmet on one of the handlebars, "I'm interested in you, Dean. When you described that palace of ruin in your story, I knew that you meant this place."
Dean turned away and took in the hotel, feeling that unmistakeable magnetism once more, that air of mystery that enveloped the place. He looked back at Sam, and realised that the little boy he had seen twice before was standing on the beach behind him.
"I've seen that little boy before," he murmured.
Sam turned around and looked at the little boy, who gave a slight smile before he ran back down the beach, away from them. Dean made to follow, but Sam caught hold of his wrist and shook his head.
"Leave him. He knows this place better than you and I combined. Show me the hotel. I want to know what draws you to it."
Dean wanted to protest, but when he looked again, the little boy had vanished, and the steady heat of Sam's large hand bled through his jacket, but before he could really appreciate the feeling, Sam released him. He walked to the hotel, feeling extremely aware of Sam behind him, as if he was letting Sam know a secret about him. He remembered the couple who he had witnessed make such violent love to one another, and he shivered involuntarily as he took in his reflection in the dull mirror. Sam looked tall and broad behind him, his multi-coloured gaze no less piercing, even in the blemished glass, and Dean was forced to concentrate on his ascent of the decomposing stairs.
"I bet you went on family picnics in the summer," Sam said softly, his voice filtering through the air and becoming even more captivating. "And all the boys and girls, alphas and betas and omegas, in town, were in love with you. You took family photos and you went to prom in a suit that your father bought for you. You lost your virginity in the basement of some boy's house, and you went to an Ivy League university, where you had a straight shooter for a boyfriend. All white teeth and clean skin. But you liked it when he got a bit rough. It excited you."
Dean stood just inside the room, watching Sam as he slowly ran his fingers against the decaying concrete and paint of the far wall. He couldn't stop listening, he couldn't bear to look away as Sam seemed to strip him bare with his carefully modulated voice.
"What's the matter, Dean?" he asked as he turned around and faced him once more.
Dean walked towards him and only stopped when they were an arm's length apart, "Why do I feel like if I touch you, you'll disappear?"
Sam's gaze was heated for a moment, but it became cool and assessing once more as he replied, "You can touch me, Dean. I won't disappear. I'm as real as this place is."
Dean licked his lips and swallowed audibly before he closed the gap between them, and slipped his hands beneath Sam's shirt and jacket, so that he could feel the hot, smooth skin of his back, and the powerful muscles that shifted beneath. He wanted to stay there, against Sam's chest, with his hands against the alpha's bare skin, until the room crumbled around them.
He tried not to look hurt as Sam gently pushed him away and walked towards the gaping window that overlooked the darkening sea.
"I'm sorry, Dean," he said. "I'm not good with touching. I don't like to be touched. It's not you. You're beautiful. It's…me."
Dean blinked back tears, feeling betrayed somehow, and made to move to the stairs.
"I bought something for you," Sam continued evenly. "I saw it and I thought of your eyes."
He pulled something out of his pocket, and as it glinted in the late afternoon sun, Dean realised that it was a pale gold crucifix encrusted with triangular chips of emerald. Sam walked towards him and secured it around his neck, so that it hung just below his collarbones. Dean stared at him for a moment before he made to take it off.
"Please," Sam said softly. "Leave it on. For me."
Dean reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides, and closed his eyes against the onslaught of Sam's searching aquamarine gaze.
Dean fingered the crucifix as he sat naked on the rattan chair just inside his bedroom, and looked at the black body of the sea, and the glittering mountainside. He thought about Sam, and for what a short period of time he had known the mysterious alpha. He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered the feeling of Sam's body against his own, the heat of his bare skin beneath his hands, and the intoxicating richness of his scent.
Dean felt something primal awaken in him whenever he thought of Sam, and it burned within him when he was with the other man. He rose from the chair and began to dress in a jade coloured silk shirt, which caressed his skin and made it tingle with sensation. He left the top unbuttoned to reveal the smooth, alabaster skin of his throat and the top of his chest where Sam's crucifix rested. Black trousers accentuated the slim line of his long legs, and made his skin almost glow in the muted evening light.
When he entered the courtyard behind the restaurant, he was wearing the black mask from before. The courtyard was almost empty, with only a few couples sitting around in subtly glittering gowns and expensive suits. The band played a mellow song, and the dancers slowly moved to it as if they had never known the frenzied dancing Dean had witnessed.
A man with pitch black hair and blue eyes, which were accentuated by the silver half-mask he wore, sat at the bar. His suit was obviously expensive and cut to accentuate his broad shoulders and long legs. His white shirt was only slightly darker than his skin tone, and was buttoned up right to the long column of his throat. Dean sat next to him and tried not to feel vulnerable under his direct gaze, or at the realisation that his scent revealed him to be a beta.
"*É esta noite?" Dean asked the bartender.
"#Não senhor. Eu não sei se ele está chegando hoje à noite."
"*Eu vejo. Eu poderia por favor dê uma taça de champanhe," Dean replied, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
The man with the raven hair turned to him, and spoke in halting Portuguese, "#Olá ...pagar a... suabebida?"
Dean shook his head and took a sip of the champagne. The man removed his mask and showed his very handsome face, which consisted of large eyes fringed by thick lashes, and a short, straight nose above a full, slightly pink mouth. He possessed none of Sam's slightly disturbing sensuality, though, and Dean did not feel the electric crackle along his veins like he did with the mysterious alpha.
"I can't speak Portuguese very well," the beta admitted. "It really is a pity that you can't understand me, because I think you're absolutely beautiful. That mouth."
Dean tried to keep his gaze steady and blank as the man spoke to him, as if he truly did not comprehend what was being said to him.
"I'm an American. Americano," he continued. "I wish I could take you back to the states with me, set you up in a nice apartment, and take you to the best restaurants. When I wasn't making love to you, I'd just watch you, with that golden hair and those green eyes."
Dean took another sip of his champagne to hide the slight tremor in his hands at the lustful tone of the man's voice.
"You don't care about that, though, do you? You don't really want me. You just want my money. God you're a gorgeous whore."
Dean made to get up, but the beta gripped his wrist and continued in a low voice, "I'm going to leave some money and a room key on the bar. I want to you come up there, so I can give you and I what we both want."
Dean stared at him, aghast, for a moment, before he got up and quickly walked away from the bar. He almost collided with someone, and when he looked up, he was met with an unmistakeable multi-coloured gaze. Sam wasn't wearing a mask, and his hair was tucked behind his ears to reveal the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones. He was clad in a suit and waistcoat again, but they were of a charcoal fabric, and the unbuttoned Nehru collar of his shirt threw his tanned skin into hectic relief.
"That—that man at the bar wants me to go up to one of those rooms with him," Dean whispered, mortified. "Do I really look that—?"
"Enviable? Sinful?" Sam supplied. "Yes you do, Dean."
Dean gazed at him with wide eyes, rendered speechless.
"This is a game, Dean," Sam continued evenly. "If you didn't want to play, then you wouldn't be here. Would you?"
Dean turned away and saw the man leave money and a key on the bar top, as promised. He held Dean's gaze for a moment, before he moved past he and Sam and disappeared behind the wall of the courtyard.
"I want you to go to him," Sam murmured in his ear, warm breath fanning his face and neck. "I want you to feel what it is to be completely desired. Needed. Sexually."
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, letting Sam's voice wash over him in an all-consuming wave, before he found himself, seemingly possessed, climbing the stairs to one of the rooms that overlooked the courtyard. The money felt heavy and strange in his trouser pocket, and the key seemingly burned in his hand as he opened the solid wooden door leading into the room.
Moonlight and the glow of the courtyard filtered in through the stained glass window on the far side of the wall, and a fractured statue of some kind of Paganlike god was mounted on the whitewashed wall facing Dean. The room was lit with a muted yellow glow, and Dean could hear the sounds of the man from the bar showering, as steam drifted out of the bathroom and languidly floated in the light of the room. Dean walked towards the other window, which was open, and provided a clear view of the courtyard below. Dean looked down and saw Sam looking up at him, his hair seemingly darker in the soft illumination, revealing the strong column of his throat.
Dean imagined that it was Sam in the shower, preparing to take Dean, but the illusion was broken as he felt his shirt being unbuttoned, revealing his exquisite body to both his anonymous lover and Sam. He closed his eyes as the beta divested him of his shirt and drew him away from the window. He felt himself be pushed onto the bed as his pants and shoes were hurriedly pulled off his body, leaving him completely naked, his pallid skin overlaid with tinges of gold in the room's light.
He opened his eyes and was met with the lust blown blue ones of the other man, before Dean tried to dive off the bed and escape in a moment of vivid panic. The beta pinned him to the floor, the varnished wood hard beneath the smooth flesh of his back. Dean tried to move his head to the side as his mask was removed, but the man's grip tightened around his wrists and guided Dean's face back so that he could take it in.
"Gorgeous. So unbelievably gorgeous," his lover whispered, as he slowly let go of Dean's wrists and worshipfully stroked his face.
He lowered his dark head and kissed the sensitive skin of Dean's trembling stomach. Drops of water from his hair fell onto Dean and he gasped as he became lost in the feeling of his hot mouth. His tongue dipped into the cavern of Dean's navel and lapped at the water that gathered there from his own skin. He held Dean's gaze as he rolled a condom onto his leaking cock, and then slowly slid into Dean's tight, slick channel. Dean couldn't look away as the man thrust into him, and the slowly expanding tendrils of pleasure bloomed in his underbelly. Dean let out a shocked gasp as he climaxed and dug his fingernails into the flesh above the beta's collarbone. He threw his head back and came as Dean looked at the shimmering night sky through the open window.
*Is Mr Kane here tonight?
#No mister. I don't know if he is coming tonight.
*I see. Could I please have a glass of champagne?
#Hello beautiful. Can I pay for your drink?
Sam rode his Harley until the countryside opened up before him, and the sea was no longer drowned out by the sounds of the city. He stopped the bike on the shoulder of the road and climbed off before he went down onto the beach.
The sky was cloudy overhead and threatened rain, but he didn't care. His mind was too full to really notice the bruised purple of the clouds. The sea was rough and the waves crashed onto the beach, grey and thick with foam. He stared out at the horizon for several minutes before he sat down on the damp sand.
He shouldn't have made Dean go with that man. He knew that his games had gone too far, and it left a very bitter taste in his mouth. Beautiful, innocent Dean, who he had regarded as a lamb to the slaughter, a plaything, last night. He scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment and then looked up again.
He didn't start when he saw the blue eyed boy from before standing in front of him. His alpha senses had warned him of the child's presence.
"*Você falaInglês?" he asked the boy.
"#Sim senhor," he replied.
"What's your name?"
"Castiel."
"Castiel. I'm Sam."
"I know," the boy responded in a matter of fact tone.
Sam wanted to ask how that was so, but he found himself saying, "Why do you always follow Dean around?"
Castiel sat down on the sand beside him and drew his legs up to his chin. His skin was quite pale, made even more so by his pitch black hair.
"He is *puro. Such a beautiful soul. He deserves to be cherished, but I think that you know that already. Something which I do not think you are very good at, Sam."
Sam frowned, "Dean should never have been let near me."
"Do not be ridiculous. It is #destino."
"What do you mean?"
"You were meant to find each other. Do not try to overthink it. You and Dean will come together when time allows it to be so."
"How do you kn—?" the words died on his lips as he realised Castiel was gone.
*Can you speak English?
#Yes, sir
*pure
#destiny
Dean tried not to think about the night before. He tried not to think about Sam's sloe eyes watching him as another man undressed him and then fucked him. He tried not to let it cloud his thoughts, especially because today was an extremely important day, and he had to prove his competence to the firm.
The traffic was congested and impossible, so he told Janek to pull over and let him walk the rest of the way to the airport. He ran there with his brief case clutched in one hand and his suit jacket in the other. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got to the airport as J.D.'s private plane landed. His boss and Clarke Kent came out of the jet with Clarke wearing a collar with a bright red leash attached to it, which J.D. held in his large hand.
"Hello Dean," J.D. grinned. "I told you I'd bring him back on a leash if I had to."
Dean didn't remind his boss that he had actually called the alpha a son of a bitch, and smiled placidly instead.
"Right," J.D. said. "Let's close this mother once and for all."
Dean nodded and followed J.D. and Clarke into the airport where a conference room had been set up for the purpose of their meeting. Clarke removed the collar and leash as soon as they entered the room and playfully chucked it to J.D.
Dean's smile froze on his lips, however, when he saw who Clarke's lawyer was. Unmistakeable blue eyes stared back at him from a very handsome face below pitch black hair. He would never be able to forget the man who had paid him for sex the previous night, the memory was seared on his brain. The beta stared at him in shock for a moment before a slow smile, which made Dean feel slightly sick, spread out across his mouth.
"Okay," J.D. said and clapped his hands. "Dean, this is Mr Kent's lawyer, Nick Burkhardt, and Nick this is Dean Winchester, my lawyer."
The smile didn't leave Nick's lips as he nodded at Dean, who tried not remember the feeling of the other man's mouth laying hot kisses against his quivering stomach.
"Let's get right down to it," Nick said. "We don't think you're offer is anywhere near fair, J.D. Mr Kent is a valuable asset and has many years of experience as a project manager and liaison. We feel that he should be kept on as a consultant with an annual salary of twelve million dollars, which should be open to raises in the foreseeable future."
J.D. raised an eyebrow as Nick talked and then looked at Dean expectantly. Dean cleared his throat, unable to look at the beta as he spoke for fear of his carefully controlled mask cracking at the recollection of their lovemaking.
"You seem to forget, Mr Burkhardt," he purposefully addressed the other man formally in order to maintain a professional stance. "That it was Mr Kent's inability to deal with the local contractors as well as overseas parties that led to the near halt in the development of the beachfront property."
Dean looked up, and he knew almost immediately that that had been a mistake, because Nick's blue eyes burned with a dark knowledge, and his smile had grown more arrogant and conspiratorial.
"Oh no, Dean," he replied smoothly. "I haven't forgotten anything. I never forget anything."
Dean dropped his gaze, a blush marring his fair complexion and betraying his discomfort.
"Could I please speak to you for a moment?" he asked J.D. as he tried to get up from the table as gracefully as possible.
J.D. quirked a brow once more and followed Dean over to the other side of the room. Dean heard Nick triumphantly tell Clarke that they had the deal in the bag, and he had to clench his teeth at the knowledge that he was the one who had screwed everything up for J.D.'s project and Dean's firm.
"What is it?" J.D. demanded. "Are you alright?"
Dean swallowed thickly and then replied in a slightly tremulous voice, "I slept with Mr Burkhardt last night."
J.D. regarded him with surprise and slight bewilderment, "Why would you do that?"
Dean shrugged uncomfortably, trying not regress to fidgeting as he had as a child when nervous or upset, "I didn't know it was him. I met him at—at a restaurant last night, and things—things progressed from there."
J.D. suddenly grinned and let out a raucous laugh before saying, "So you fucked him? That's it? Can't say I blame you. Nick is a fine piece of ass if he really is actually an ass."
Dean felt utterly flustered, "I—I think I should withdraw from the negotiations, don't you? I mean I've been—been compromised."
J.D. grinned predatorily for a moment and patted Dean on the cheek, "Don't be silly, sweetheart. I've got this under control. Watch this."
He winked at Dean before he turned around and his face became placid once more. He sat down and regarded Nick with a steady, if not slightly calculating, gaze.
"I'm sorry about that gentlemen," J.D. smiled. "You know how omegas can get. Away from home and all that."
Nick and Clarke shared a knowing look for a moment before J.D. continued, "You must know the feeling, Nick. Of being away from home, I mean. Since Juliette's father made you a partner at the firm, you've been travelling an awful lot. It's quite hard on her, I'm sure, and last time I saw her she expressed some doubts about the stability of your marriage."
Nick visibly paled as J.D. spoke and he had the decency to look at Dean with a rather panicked expression.
"I think we can resolve this quickly. Don't you?" J.D. pressed sweetly.
"Ye—yes," Nick nodded. "I think on second thought, you're offer seems very fare, and Mr Kent would be more than happy to leave quietly and keep his reputation intact."
Clarke opened his mouth to protest but Nick gave him a searing look that made his mouth close with an audible clack.
"Oh how lovely," J.D. smiled guilelessly. "I can't wait to see Juliette again at little Nick's birthday party."
Dean hid his smile as he closed his file and shook Clarke and Nick's hands.
"J.D.," Janek said in an unhappy voice. "I have bad news."
J.D.'s expression darkened, "Oh for fuck sakes! What is it now?"
Janek cleared his throat, "Someone bought the hotel. I can find out who—"
J.D.'s fists and jaw clenched, "Don't bother. I know exactly who it was."
"What are we going to do?" Dean asked softly.
J.D. sighed and ran his hand over his face before replying, "We're going to close the deal with the Chinese."
"But—but we can't, J.D. that's misrepresentation!" Dean gasped.
"Don't you think I know that?" J.D. sighed again. "Listen Dean, after the deal goes through I'll go and talk to Sam about getting him to sign over the old hotel. For now, we need to concentrate on closing this deal, and dazzling the Chinese with a carnival after party."
Dean nodded helplessly and made to leave the office, but J.D.'s voice halted him.
"Dean. I need to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"Has anything happened between you and Sam?"
Dean thought about touching Sam in the derelict hotel, and the crucifix that he had bought Dean, and the fact that Sam had watched Nick seduce him. For all that, he realised that he and Sam hadn't even kissed. Sam didn't like to be touched, after all.
"No," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing's happened."
J.D. stared at him for a moment, as if he didn't believe Dean, and then he nodded, "What do you think of Sam?"
"He—" excites me. "Is quite strange."
"Strange huh? I'm not surprised by your reply. Sam isn't the most open of people, and I'm very sure that's because of his background."
"Background?"
"Yes. He was born in Boston, and he was an orphan. He stuttered so badly that he could barely string a sentence together."
Dean felt shocked, the thought of Sam as a young boy, destitute and parentless and the sufferer of a severe speech impediment, didn't mesh with the image of the enigmatic millionaire who seemed to born of Dean's darkest, and most secret, fantasies.
"I suppose we'd better get to that signing," J.D. said, breaking the silence.
Dean nodded and went to change.
Dean felt nervous energy flitting about his stomach as he watched the Chinese sign the deal. He was terrified that someone would know about the hole in the deal, and suddenly stand up and reveal everything. Nothing like that happened of course, and as soon as the deal was done, loud music started playing and the carnival party started.
J.D. immediately began dancing with one of the caramel skinned performers, and Dean watched as he became engulfed by the crowd. He felt himself on the fringe of the party, and something made him turn around. Sam stood a few metres away from him, with his hands buried in his trouser pockets. His expression was unreadable as Dean approached him, noticing the limousine behind him and the bodyguards leaning against it.
"Why are you here?" Dean asked. "Actually, why did you buy the old hotel? To hurt me? Don't you think you've already achieved that, Sam?"
Sam remained silent, his multi-coloured gaze flickering for a moment before it became expressionless once more.
Dean stepped away from him, "You always set people up to disappoint you, and they always do."
"I don't set anyone up, Dean. People do what they want," Sam finally replied, calmly.
"I don't know why I love you," Dean said, hiding the vulnerability he felt at saying that.
Sam's eyes became a deep shade of blue and green, but he didn't reply, and didn't make any move to step towards Dean.
Dean smiled bitterly and let himself get lost in the crowd.
Dean stood on the balcony of his room, and only inclined his head slightly as J.D. came and stood next to him. They both looked at a young man running along the beach, who Dean had seen many times before. He was quite beautiful, with pitch black hair and large brown eyes. His skin was tanned a golden colour, and he smiled at Dean as he pushed his wet hair away from his face.
"Something did happen between you and Sam, didn't it?" J.D. asked softly.
Dean sighed, "Yes, but it isn't what you think."
"Was he there when you and Nick had sex?"
Dean bit his lip and nodded.
"I see," J.D. said, his tone regretful.
J.D. drew the house key out of his pocket and dangled it in the air for the young man on the beach to see, and then he dropped it onto the sand.
Five minutes later, Dean found himself sitting in the rattan chair by the balcony doors, while J.D. leaned against the wall and the young man sat on Dean's bed.
"Ask him what his name is," J.D. murmured.
"Qual é o seunome?"
He smiled, showing even white teeth, "Michael. Estou feliz por estar em uma sala com dois desses homens bonitos."
"What did he say?" J.D. asked, not looking away from Michael.
"He said that he's glad to be in a room with two such handsome men."
J.D. scoffed softly, "A flatterer I see. Tell him to take his pants off."
Dean frowned in shock, but then he said, "Despir-se."
"Com prazer,olhos verdes."
"He said with pleasure…green eyes."
J.D. let out a breathy laugh as Michael approached him.
"Eu quero levar esse homem em algum lugar onde possamos ficar sozinhos," Michael said huskily.
J.D. looked at Jensen pointedly, "He wants to take you into the other room, where you can be alone."
J.D. gave a close lipped smile, "Such a pretty liar."
He turned Michael around and pushed him towards Dean. Michael looked back over his shoulder for a moment and then smiled at Dean. He stood before Dean, completely naked, his cock hard and long. He had a beautiful body, but he was so young, and Dean thought about the way Sam's body looked. Tall and strong and so mature. A man's body that despite Dean's own tall frame, could make him feel vulnerable. Wanted.
"*Coloque suasroupas de volta," Dean instructed softly. "I'm sorry, J.D., but I can't do this."
He rose from the chair and left the room. He needed to clear his head.
*Put your clothes back on
Dean walked up the decaying steps, now strangely familiar to him, of the room in the deserted hotel. He listened to the sound of water running and insects humming, and he remembered the couple who made love before him. The memory of their shameless mating still made his cheeks hot, but he had to admit that now he understood the raw need, the fearless desire, that he had been witness to.
He looked at his reflection in the tarnished mirror for a long time before walked into the room, and stood at the gaping window that Sam had stood at. He watched the sea for a while, the way the water swelled and crashed onto the beach. He watched the rain filled clouds approach from the horizon, darkening the sea.
He heard movement behind him, and when he turned around, he was met with the sight of the little boy with the blue eyes.
"*Olápoucoestranho," Dean greeted, brushing his fingers along the child's cheek.
"#Oláanjo," the boy smiled.
"*Por que você estáaqui?"
"#Para dizer que Sam não te amo. Ele está com medo, meu anjo. Você deve dar-lhe tempo."
Dean gasped at the realisation that the little boy knew about he and Sam, but something inside of him told him that that was not important. What the boy had said was important. Vitally important.
*Destino, a voice whispered in his head.
"#Leve-me paraele," Dean whispered.
"*Não, meu anjo. Elevirá até você. Espere por ele," the boy assured him, resting his hand on Dean's where it still lay on the boy's soft cheek.
Dean nodded. He knew that the boy was right. Sam was his destiny and he would wait for him.
*Hello little stranger
#Hello angel
*Why are you here?
#To tell you that Jared does love you. He is afraid, angel. You must give him time.
*Destiny
#Take me to him
*No, angel. He will come to you. Wait for him.
Dean sat on the balcony outside of the main living room, watching as the rain fell against the sea and made it grey and churning. The clouds were purple lined with black, and the sun broke through to shine like silver fingers onto the ocean, making it sparkle in places.
"Senhor Dean," said one of the housemaids as she handed him a thick envelope. "This just came for you. It is from a Senhor Kane."
"Obrigado."
He opened the envelope and took out the bound document, which he immediately recognised as the deed to the old hotel. He went to J.D.'s office and found the other man leaning against one of the desks and watching the sea, as Dean had been doing.
"J.D.," he said as he laid the deed down on the desk.
J.D. turned around and smiled rather repentantly at him, "I was wondering where you were. I wanted to apologise about earlier. It got out of hand and my behaviour was inexcusable."
Dean smiled softly, "I accept your apology, J.D. Look at this."
J.D. looked enormously relieved and then ecstatic as he realised what Dean was showing him.
"I was hoping it could save the deal," Dean murmured.
J.D. almost grinned, "You're damn right it'll save the deal," then he spoke in a more hushed tone and the smile became softer. "Sam obviously gave this to you."
"Yes," Dean nodded. "He sent it over."
J.D. looked at him as if it was the first time he was really seeing Dean, "You've broken through to him then."
Dean went back to his room as the rain continued to fall into the evening, and the sounds of the sea and the storm became one soothing noise. He frowned when he saw that the lights in his room were on, but his confusion soon turned to shock as he saw who was in his room. Sam sat in the rattan chair by the closed balcony doors.
"Sam," Dean murmured, closing his bedroom door. "How did you get in here?"
"One of the housemaids let me in and showed me your room. She recognised my name."
"I see."
Sam leaned forward, his eyes slowing raking over Dean's body where he was resting against the wall.
He began to talk in a steady tone, his deep voice flowing over each word, "I was born in Boston. I don't know who my parents were. They abandoned me at the orphanage when I was a baby, and I was in the foster system until I was eighteen. I had a father for a while. When I was about twelve. We lived in a little house, more like a glorified shack with plumbing really, near the water. He spoke a lot about not having any money, about how it must feel to be really rich…to be powerful…He taught me how to swim…And then one night I woke up and he was gone, and I never saw him again.
I had had a bad stutter since I was a small child, but when he left me…I didn't talk again for years. I stayed in the sixth grade for about two years…and the teachers didn't try and find out why, they just let me put my head on the desk…They thought I was retarded."
He got up and turned his back to Dean for a few minutes, trying to collect himself, and then he sat down on Dean's bed and started talking again.
"I worked as many jobs as I could, and when I was eighteen, I bought a house in the worst neighbourhood in the city, and I fixed it up. I bought two more and I just kept it rolling from there. I managed to get in with the right people…sleep with the right people sometimes…and then I found myself buying skyscrapers and multi-million dollar properties.
Then came the men and the women…the kind that are attracted to power and success. They didn't care that I could barely talk, that I stuttered so badly that I struggled to form a single sentence…The more introverted I became, the more I distanced myself from them, the more they took it as a sign of silent strength and…independence. I thought I had everything that I wanted, that I wanted to get to prove that I wasn't…nothing.
I started to play games with people, with my lovers, because I wanted to make things interesting. I wanted to…control people. It became a way of life for me, and I realise now that if I'd tried, if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to find my way out of the smoke and mirrors I'd created around myself…"
Dean stepped away from the wall, "If you want me, then just come here and hold me, Sam. Claim me as yours."
Dean unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor in a puddle behind him. Sam looked at the beautiful definition of his muscles, the slim waist, beneath perfect, pale skin, sprinkled with caramel freckles and chocolate coloured beauty spots. His nipples were tight and dark with arousal, and his stomach quivered slightly under Sam's scrutiny.
He got up from the bed and paused next to Sam, his hands held up as if he would touch Dean, but then he dropped them back to his sides and met Dean's wide, emerald gaze.
"I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, Dean. I didn't want to hurt you…but I don't know any other way."
Dean stepped closer until they were a breath a part, "Touch me."
Sam shook his head and looked away, a defeated expression on his handsome face.
Dean's face crumpled in turn, "You really can't, can you?"
He made to stride away from Sam, but then the alpha wrapped his arms around Dean in a tight embrace, and pulled him back against the hard line of his body. Dean let out a shaky breath and crossed his arms over Sam's, clutching at his hand.
Sam spun him around and pulled his pants off so that he stood completely naked while Sam was still fully clothed. He took Sam's large hand and pressed it against his chest before guiding it up and down, over his stomach and nipples, in a kind of caress. His skin came alive under the warmth of Sam's touch, and he closed his eyes in order to drink in the sensations running over his skin. He opened his eyes when Sam stepped back and shed his own clothes, exposing tanned skin over a sculpted body, and a large, thick cock that curved beautifully.
"So stunning," Sam breathed out, as he guided Dean onto the bed.
They lay like that for a while, with Sam's eyes never leaving Sam's enraptured face, as Sam touched every part of him that he could reach. He gently traced the exquisite planes of Dean's face, lingering on the fullness of his mouth and the sharpness of his cheekbones. He gently trailed his fingers over Dean's soft throat and his lovely collarbones.
He slowly lowered his head and claimed Dean's mouth, his tongue licking over plush lips, and sliding behind straight teeth in order to trace every part, until Dean clutched at his shoulders and drew away panting for air. He drew Dean on top of him and gripped his lean hips, tracing the fine bones and beauty spots with his thumbs.
"So fragile," he whispered. "So absolutely beautiful."
Dean didn't break eye contact as he slid down onto Sam's hot length, and a smile broke out across his face at the sensation of such fullness and fulfilment. Sam reverently outlined the hardness of Dean's gorgeous cock, and listened attentively to the sounds of pleasure and need that Dean made as he approached his completion. Blunt nails dug into the hard plane of Sam's chest as Dean cried out and came. He lay down against his lover, resting his face against the long column of Sam's throat.
When he was aroused again, Sam turned them over so that Dean was lying beneath him. He firmly gripped the back of the omega's neck as he began to thrust into his smooth heat, and Dean gripped his forearm where it supported his weight next to Dean's head. He ran his thumb along the pulsing vein in Dean's throat, feeling his life and need as Dean's divine face became consumed with expressions of exquisite pleasure. Dean gazed up at Jared in wonder as he came for the second time, and watched as Sam's face mirrored his own before their lips met once more, Sam's tongue sliding wet and hot over his own.
"Knot me, Sam," he murmured, as he turned over on his belly.
He sighed as Sam traced the pink flesh over his entrance and tasted Dean's sweet slick. His big fine fingered hand unhurriedly ran down the curves and dips of Dean's spine, and into the crease of his buttocks.
He cried out in pleasure as Sam drove into him and felt his alpha's cock begin to swell inside of him until he thought that he could feel it behind his navel. He gripped the sheets and moaned happily as Sam took him roughly, his one warm hand resting on Dean's nape while the other was splayed over the light muscle of his stomach. He arched as Sam filled him up and his knot expanded so that Dean cried out at the feeling of painful gratification and spilled his release on the sheets below.
Afterwards they lay on the mattress with the soiled sheets lying on the floor beside the bed. Dean ran his fingers through Sam's long, thick hair as Sam watched him with half closed eyes.
"What will happen now?" Dean whispered.
Sam drew lazy patterns on the silken skin of Dean's lower back as he replied, "We'll love each other. We'll belong to each other."
Dean smiled as Sam drew him closer and claimed his mouth, with the sounds of the rain falling into the sea outside.
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